|
|
Leah and Sarah chatted as they climbed up the stairs behind the royal children. The king had invited the four persons from Dew Valley for a second visit to the palace. Bulgarth was sitting in the council room with the commanders of the city garrison, answering questions on the land upriver while Merlana and Juna had opted to remain in the palace garden and venture into the maze planted there. Leah paused in her tracks and raised a hand to quiet Sarah. Abruptly she sprang up the stairs taking them two at a time. Sarah rushed after her, overtaking the still laughing children. At the top of the stairs, she stared with disbelief at a group of soldiers that were battering against a door. Leah ran into an adjacent room. A moment later the queen’s door opened and Leah punched the first soldier in front of her. “You fools! You fools! You fools!” she screamed with despair. An officer glanced into the room then shouted an order which compelled a troop of soldiers to run pell-mell down the stairs. Leah tore through every single bedchamber on the royal floor with a handful of guards clamouring behind her. Sarah was alone. She treaded into the royal bedchamber and squatted next to the body lying in a pool of blood. She studied the knife piercing his chest and the angry cut carved into his face. She saw that the sole of his shoes were lined with black mud and a piece had fallen on the floor. Sarah picked this up and placed it in her handkerchief then tucked the fabric back into her pocket. Next she turned her attention to the knife hilt. The carving was rough and looked like a fish. An indrawn breath made her turn, and standing at the doorway was Kurbadil, his face ashen, his eyes searching for his mother. The anguished scream of a child echoed through the corridor. Leah knocked down a guard in her rush to the family room. Carmen screamed and screamed; and stopped only after Leah picked her up and turned her face away. Then she cried, “Wake Dipa up Leah, please wake Dipa up. Wake him up.” The sobbing governess Myra took Carmen from Leah’s arms and embraced her tight. Sarah came to stand next to Leah and was shocked by what she saw. Though she had only met the old man yesterday, she had taken an instant liking to him, for he was wise in many ways and was as gentle as soft rain on a hot summer day. She stared at the blood soak white beard he kept to humour his little princess, and at the index finger which held a ring of a mottled shell encased in silver, a gift from Carlmon. The tooth of a wild boar, the first animal that Kurbadil had hunted, lay on the floor to one side though still clinging onto its broken leather string. Carmen’s voice called out, “Papa, papa, make Dipa wake up.” The king’s face had lost all colour and his eyes were on the brink of madness. A gaunt man in grey robes and red belt, Master Physician Fenbach, rushed in and barked his orders, “Bring the children back to the nursery. This is no place for them. Your majesty, let us return to your chambers.” The king glared, “What? Who do you think you are, to tell me what to do?” “I am your physician, I am employed to attend to you. You can do away with me after you are well, but for now, you will listen to me.” Fenbach turned Posadom around and urged him physically back to his chambers, ignoring the king’s protests. Leah and the governess took the children away and again, Sarah’s presence was forgotten. A guard asked, “Who could have done such a thing?” Another answered, “I know the man inside. He’s a carpenter. There was one time he lived no better than a rat. Should have known that this was his new trade. How else could he have suddenly become so well fed?” Another quipped, “Well, Prince Palmeon is in for it. This be his second time something like this happen.” Sarah gazed down the corridor. Leah was talking with a blond, large framed officer. Casperlane had introduced him as Charles of Brent, the commander of the most experienced troop in the city garrison. Sarah went down the main stairs unheeded, as everyone was too busy giving their best opinion of the trouble to notice her. She did not go back into the garden to look for Merlana. She had to find Frad, she had to go to him. Palmeon smiled on reading Brocod’s note which confirmed that Tilmon was now safely hidden. He picked up a sealed letter from the study table and passed it to his page. “Give this to his majesty personally. Tell him it is from his brother.” The boy bowed and left his presence. Palmeon smiled, as he caressed a golden pendant in his hand. The artist tried very hard to make Princess Juila’s plain stoic face attractive. He should not have bothered for the power she would bring as her dowry made her attractive to Palmeon. King Raul of Merlk could have offered him the ugliest woman in his household and Palmeon would not have cared. His finger stroked the picture lovingly. Casperlane stood in the middle of the corridor in the royal quarters and stretched out his hand to take the letter from the young page but the boy stubbornly held on to the parchment. The security captain’s voice boomed, “Do you know who I am?” The boy trembled in his shoes, but he had his orders. “Begging your pardon my lord. Please understand, his highness wishes me to pass this to the king personally. He said it is important.” “I will throw you into prison for your impudence.” The boy only stared up at him. Casperlane was about to jump on the page when he heard a voice behind him. “Bring the letter to me.” The colour had not returned to Posadom’s face. The page skipped out of Casperlane’s way and scampered towards the king. Posadom’s hand shook as he took the letter. Two guards carried over a chair for the king to sit on. Posadom’s hands continued to shake as he broke the seal. Casperlane stood behind him and read over his king’s shoulder.
The king began to wheeze, and Fenbach stormed into the corridor, “What is this? I told you to rest. Casperlane, you should know better.” Posadom lifted his face to the tall thin man, a face so wretched it touched the physician’s cold heart. His voice soften, “Your majesty. What good is all this grief you bring on yourself? Will it safe a single life, will it change anything? You need to rest, clear your mind. And when that is done, come and sit in our midst again as king.” Casperlane knelt in front of Posadom as the king bowed his head in grief. The security captain said, “You have always had words of comfort for us, your servants. Allow this servant now to bring some measure of comfort to you. I may not be king, but I sit in the council of law. Let me decide the best course of action. Rest your majesty. I will have a few plans ready for you to choose from when you have refreshed yourself.” The king gazed at his friend and squeezed the hand offered to him in comfort and friendship. He would take the advice and rest but he requested that his children be brought to him. It was a sad and broken family that gathered in the king’s chambers. Little Carmen cried herself to sleep in her father’s arms. Though Posadom found no rest in their grief, he found strength. Casperlane immediately sent word to the ambassadors of foreign nations staying in Sillander. He offered them and their officers a safe haven in the palace. Many came with disbelief etched on their faces. But greater was Casperlane’s shock when he saw Princess Keldina walked into the palace with Ambassador Raick of Kalimy. Casperlane tore his hair in horror, for she was the youngest child and only daughter of King Kelt and she had come to a land on the brink of war. He should have guessed as it was her habit to visit Netherweld every year during the summer. She and her matron were immediately put under Leah’s care. Ambassador Branduil, the representative of Santurst offered his services to Casperlane. His long snow white hair was tied behind him and his intricately woven beard quivered as he spoke, “Santurst bore no love for Merlk. The soil of our border is soaked with our people’s blood. Queen Swayne will expect me to assist you in any manner possible.” Casperlane politely answered, “We will need every able bodied man we can have.” The old man chuckled and lifted his old trembling hands. “You are very kind my friend. But think not that my offer was empty and came from the mouth of a boastful old man. Our queen is wise by most account, our armies are well trained and our garrison well mounted.” Casperlane sighed, “Aye, we should have kept our armies on their toes too. Yet most are loath to spend so much money on war in times of peace.” Branduil raised an eyebrow, “Sometimes a nation may keep an army for a hundred years, just to win a war fought in one day. Is that not so my friend?” “You are right. How I wish that we have the army of Santurst with us.” "You may still have your wish." Branduil gave him a knowing wink and turned to a middle aged man dressed in work clothes. “Well Bird Keeper Tadil, do you think the army will come?” “As you say Master Branduil, I have been employed these eight years for the purpose of this single moment. Ready three short notes, I will send out three pigeons.” Tadil crossed his arms over his chest, bowed then turned and left. Casperlane was moved, “Santurst will come?” Branduil explained, “My country shares her borders with Merlk, Netherweld and a small portion of Kalimy. To our east is the wide open sea. Where will we run to if this unholy alliance comes to fruition? Merlk shows no mercy to their prisoners. The bodies we buried at our border had proven that. Palmeon is a fool. Raul will not share his power. He even had his own daughter, Luna, murdered because he had no more use for her husband. Once Netherweld is under his grasp, he will treat Palmeon in exactly the same manner.” Casperlane felt a presence behind them and turned, ready to rebuke anyone who was daring enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. The king’s pale face smiled back. Branduil bowed stiffly. Posadom raised a hand to quiet Casperlane, “In all the commotion, I forgot that Keldina may be coming for a visit. She always comes this time of year. It is good to see you Branduil. Your visits here are too far and too few. I regret the inconvenienced all this must be causing you.” The old man’s heart melted. Here was a man whose family had been torn apart, here stood a king whose nation was about to be burnt and plundered, yet he was concerned over the welfare of an old ambassador of a foreign nation. Branduil would write three notes with his own old hands, for he resolved that Netherweld shall not have Palmeon as king. The bird keeper peered into the cages he had brought with him - so many birds. His mind whirled, and he stood up straight and breathed deep to calm himself. He closed his eyes and turned his face heavenward as a prayer came out from his being, begging Providence to show him which birds to choose for the important task. Which one of these could reach Greenwater Fort in time? How was he to know what lay ahead in the future? Santurst’s border lay close to Sillander and if the message reached its destination early, then the boats from Merlk could be stopped. Tadil swallowed back the bile building up in his throat. He opened his eyes and resigned himself to the impossible task. His gaze fell on Grey, the old one who had never failed him. In another cage was Milk, beautiful and willowy with strong wings that did not tire after a day’s flight. And perched next to her was Frisk, a restless pigeon with a habit of flying from tree to tree. The bird keeper’s mind cleared and a strong conviction rose inside him. Grey might be slow but he was trusty and careful. A late army was more welcome than no army at all. Milk soared with great speed yet her love for great heights made her an easy prey for hunters and eagles. Though Frisk's habit of alighting on any high branch he fancies slowed him down, yet his restlessness made him faster than Grey. The bird keeper embraced the three pigeons and hurried back into the palace. Casperlane watched and learned as they tied the notes carefully to the feet of the birds. Tadil painted the crown feathers of each bird red to show that the pigeons carried messages of great importance. On the ramparts, Branduil stroke Grey lovingly, “This will be your last work dear friend. I will look for you after all this is over. We will find a nice warm valley to live in, you and I.” And he released the bird. Branduil turned and saw a young woman watching them. She had olive skin and thick black hair, and her sad countenance was as beautiful as Tilmon's. The ambassador gazed at the pendant she wore around her neck, which bore the minor royal crest of Kalimy. He bowed for this was Keldina, the beloved daughter of King Kelt, the princess who bore the feminine side of his name. Frad strolled lazily down the market street as he soaked in the sight and sound of his youth. He chuckled as he watched a stern-face housekeeper haggle with a stall owner over some carrots and tomatoes. He would make that a central scene in his new painting. Maybe this time his efforts on living objects would be successful. Then in the crowd, he saw Sarah's distraught face. Alarm jolted his heart and he rushed to her side. “What is wrong? Is any one of the others hurt?” Sarah whispered back, “The queen has been kidnapped and the chamber master murdered.” Frad turned and indicated for her to follow. Weaving his way through the crowd, he walked down to the end of the street and crossed towards the river pavilion. Grey stone benches stood empty under the hot sun. Frad turned back to face the market and leaned against one of the many posts that held a chain to separate the pavilion from the river. “What did you see?” Frad asked, knowing that very few things escaped Sarah’s eye. “The queen killed one of her kidnappers. There was some form of black mud on the sole of his shoes.” Here she took out her handkerchief and passed it to Frad. He cupped the fabric into a bag and thrust his nose inside to smell the black mess. Sarah continued, “There was also a knife in his chest, of a make that is too un-comely for a queen. The hilt was made of light coloured wood with stains which I believe once held colours and the carving was rough. It seemed to be an attempted likeness of a fish.” Frad smiled, for he had already guessed who the carver was from her visual account. The black mud smelled familiar, but he could not name a place for it yet in his memory. Frad said, “The work you mention is that of Gert’s. I know him.” “Let us go find him then.” Frad hesitated. Would he dare to bring the woman he loved along? His past had haunted since his return to the city. He studied her stubborn face. If he insisted on going alone, she would follow him so he decided to keep her where he could see her. Frad said, “You cannot go like that though. We will be robbed before we even reached his place. Let us return to the inn, you can change into my clothes.” They made their way back into the street and towards the inn. Frad led her upstairs and opened the door of the bedroom he shared with Hymae. He pointed to a sack on the floor. “You will find fresh clothes in there. I will wait for you downstairs.” Sarah bolted the door after he left. The narrow room had two small beds and one side table for a washbasin. She opened Frad’s sack and picked the clothes she needed, which fitted her comfortably. Then she folded her own clothes and piled them on the bed after tucking a knife into her belt. A piece of twine that Hymae used to tie his rolled parchments lay on the window sill. She used it to tie her hair back then went downstairs to Frad. Frad was watching the stairs as he waited for her. They walked out of the inn without speaking and turned down the street to the right. The day grew cooler as evening drew near. About them carts and horses jostled with the crowd. Liquor houses opened windows to freshen up as they prepared for the evening customers. Soon the more seedy side of trade began calling from street corners. After a distance, Frad slowed to let Sarah catch up with him. The more turnings they took, the more run down the area looked. Sarah saw stalls with unfamiliar wares. Strips of strange meat hung loosely on rusty hooks as sellers called out their prices. A dirty little boy sold loafs of small bread among a pile of raw rotting rubbish. Another man tried to sell fish that was obviously ripening. The filthy condition of the merchandise on display shocked the Monqui woman. Sarah followed Frad into an alleyway which seemed to be filled only with rubbish. Then as her eyes got use to the forms lying about her, she saw that people lived in the alley. Some lay shivering under the heaps, with only their heads showing. The smell made her gagged. Frad looked at each and every person he passed then he stopped in front of an overturned wooden crate. He signaled for her to stay where she was. “Ooi, Gert.” He kicked with his shoe. “Wake up. The sun is setting.” A growl came from inside the crate, “It is not set. Leave me alone and come back later. My eyes are hurting from the light.” Frad asked, “Why are you here then? Why not rent a place in the tunnels?” “What cares you of that? The tunnel watchers are charging a fortune nowadays. Why should I pay good money for a rotten rat-hole?” Frad squatted in front of the crate, “They should be charging you. I hear that one of your knives killed a man this afternoon. I recognized the blade, I wager some law implementer or other will recognize it too.” Sarah’s eyes widened, why did Frad lie and tell Gert that he was the one who saw that knife? The crate moved then a pair of dirty breeches crossed itself. An ugly laugh came out from the crate. “Aye, you be Frederick are you not. I thought you be dead already. One would be murderer warning another maybe.” Another laugh, “Something must be wrong with this place then. Since when did law implementers care about a death?” Frad answered, “The murder did not happen here. They may not care about murders in the alleys, but they do care about those that occur elsewhere in Sillander.” The crate was quiet for a moment then the voice answered defensively. “I make blades for sale you know. Some here thinks that my work is fine and pay money for them.” “I doubt that not. But you are now in a pretty pickle, unless you remember who bought it from you. The hilt was the carving of a fish, and the wood you used was light in color.” “Aye, that be the finest work I ever made. Why you be the one to ask me this question?” “The old man was somebody important to me.” Frad took out some coins from his pocket and passed it to the voice. “Ah, very important indeed this man be to you. Well, well, if it be any help, I sold the blade to Tracden. You remember the chap don’t you. He looks as fine as you do now. All nice smelling and in pressed clothes. Works with Brocod, a man whose heart is as dark and as dank as the tunnels. His two cousins, Blair and Tom, also works for the lord.” A harsh laugh shook the crossed legs, “Be careful, Blair is no soft hearted little lady. He’ll crush your skull with his hands.” The breeches moved back into the crate. Frad got up and return to Sarah’s side. Once they were out of the alley, Sarah asked, “Why did you lie to him about seeing the blade?” “He would have asked to talk to you. You will do well to avoid people like him. He would have recognized that you are a woman almost immediately.” Sarah was glad to be with somebody who knew about all these things. Then she wondered how did he know about people like Gert? She said, “He called you a murderer.” “The word he used was would be murderer.” He answered. After some distance in silence, which to Frad was louder than the noise around them, he decided to reveal his past to Sarah. “I was born in this part of the city. My father was a common laborer, my mother a lowly maid in the house of a merchant. You can say that I grew up all by myself during the day, but my mother told me that when I was too young to put food in my own mouth, an old neighbor fed me while they were out. Things were quite all right until one day, when I was about eight. My father had an accident and became bedridden. He died soon after.” He did not add that his father had crawled out of bed one day while home alone. They found him in a ditch a week later, his rat infested body beyond recognition but they knew him by the string bracelet his son had given him. His father only did what any self respecting adult would do in their community. When the strong barely had enough to live on, charity had to come from the weak. Frad’s voice shook as he continued. “Mother became sick with a lung disease when I was eleven. The epidemic was very bad, many died within days of catching it. The city officials came and burnt our part of the city to sanitize the area. Ever since then government officials will come every few months to clear the streets.” Frad pulled Sarah out of the way of a group of dirty children running down the sidewalk. He continued, “I moved in with a few other orphans. We worked odd jobs and ran errands. Then one day a wood carver from Laurenx came round looking for painters. The work was hard, the hours long and the pay bad. But I was adventurous. I wondered what life was like outside the poor part of the city. He actually had a place in the countryside.” Frad laughed. “You should have seen me, I choked in the fresh air. I became his apprentice after three months. I guess he must think me still salvageable. That was when my name became Frederick of Laurenx. Life was good for the next four years. When he was selected as a contractor for the building of the west wing in the Institute of Learning, he brought me to the site and taught me how to read plans. I supervised the laying of the white marble floor and I carved some of the wall panels of juniper and oak.” He smiled at the memory. “My master allowed us to do anything we wanted for one day a week and I would use that time to paint on canvas. The raw joy I had over seeing beautiful architectures made me draw one building after another. He was so impressed by my work he sponsored me for an art exhibition. When I became successful as an artist, I moved out from the work house and into my own studio, which I build on a low cliff, close to the river. Would you believe, I was barely nineteen at that time? Aye, life was good. Until the day when Prince Palmeon came by and asked me to do a special painting for him. He wanted me to go to Kalimy. I was young, impressionable and excited, although my master was skeptical, and warned me to be careful. When I came back, the Prince appeared pleased with my work. Five days after I passed him the painting, a huge crowd appeared outside my studio, shouting and screaming that they wanted me dead. They set the studio on fire, with me inside. I had a trap door on the floor, which led to a cave in front of the riverbank. I went back to my old friends and they told me that I was being accused of trying to murder the queen. Rumour has it that I laced the painting with poison. So I ran away, moving from place to place, until I came by Monqui. You know the rest of the story.” Sarah knitted her brow, “Did they not search for you? Surely if you had been accused of such a crime, the government will not stop looking?” Frad explained in a roundabout way, trying to make her understand his action first, “I was a good painter for buildings but not human movements or portraits. The subject always turned out stiff and unnatural.” He sighed, ashamed to say his next words. “I thought of improving my skills and one way would be to study a representation of my object in depth.” He looked sideways at her, she was still listening. “I mean, I know buildings in and out. The moment I see one, I could tell what it looks like inside, and I am always right.” Sarah now stopped to look him straight in the face, her eyes wide. He quickly coughed out the last bit, “I bought a human corpse from the buriers to study.” “Frad!” Sarah shouted, then she dropped her voice, “I am never going to allow you to do anything like that ever again.” He almost whooped with joy. She had not changed her mind and her words proved that she still intended to stay part of his life. He cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed about his feelings for her. He led her down a few more turnings then stopped in front of an eating house. He said, “Let’s go in and have a bite to eat. I also want to hear what is being said about the incident.” “They would know about it?” “Aye, believe me my dear, gossip travels faster than the official news. Most people who eat here work in the Palace so they would have things to say. Stay quiet and follow my lead.” The smell of toasted bread and roasted meat assailed them as they stepped into the establishment. For all her distress at the things she saw in the poor city, Sarah now felt her mouth watering. Frad went to the counter and called out to an old woman, “Ooi, bread and meat here for two hungry men and make it quick. Bring two mugs of ale too lass.” She sniffed, “You must be blind to think me a lass, but for that blindness, you will get your meal quick.” One patron at the counter lifted his cup and said gallantly, “Aye, dear Meg, you be the prettiest lass in this street. That’s why I come here to eat all the time.” Chuckles erupted from the tables. The good natured opening had the effect that Frad was hoping for, as the man to his right turned and asked, “Where are you from? Never seen you around here before.” Frad answered, “We are both from Monqui. This here is my friend Wilfred. I used to hear that Sillander is a noisome place, seem to be as quiet as my hometown tonight.” An older man at the counter snorted, “Well you came on the wrong day lad. There is uproar in the palace. The queen was kidnapped. The law implementers are searching the streets like madmen for the doers of the crime. Most people had run into the tunnels to avoid trouble. Not much trade will be going on for the next few days is my bet.” “This will be a sad time for the women outside.” The first man commented. “Most of them will be sleeping out in the streets I guess.” Another man with a dirty sneer on his face added his mind’s two pence, “Aye, with this going on, they will be insisting to do their trade in proper rooms, not wanting to risk getting caught plying their trade in dark corners. Rooms aren’t cheap you know.” Frad forced out a loud laugh in accord with the other men, but his face was red when he turned to look at Sarah. Luckily their dinner arrived and Frad attacked his food with more gusto than he felt. As they ate the other patrons continued their discussion about the happenings in the palace and the spillover to the city. “Humph, I heard it said that Prince Palmeon sent these three men over. If his brother was the doer, I doubt if it be money he is after.” “The king is too good a man I warrant you. His brother was trouble from the start, anyone else would have gotten rid of someone like that, family or not.” Heads nodded in agreement. Long debates issued after that on the treatment of traitorous relations, none of which was kind. A woman’s voice quipped, “Orders had come out that all citizens should make way for the inner city. Would you believe, some are saying that an army is marching this way.” One man said, “Formenscion will be a rich man after all this is over. The palace will be buying more armours and weapons from him no doubt.” Frad’s back stiffened, he gobbled down the last piece of roast, for he did not want to linger any longer. He stood up and put money down on the counter. The man to his right asked, “Leaving so soon?” “Aye, this little boy here has to return to his uncle before it gets too late. Else there’d be trouble from the old man.” “Don’t worry lad,” the man on Sarah’s left retorted, “You will be grown up soon enough.” More chuckles. Once they were out of the eating house, Sarah looked up and down the dimly lit street and asked, “Where to now?” “I will go alone after this. You must return to the others.” Sarah said, “I am going with you.” “You do not want to go where I am going Sarah.” “And what makes you think I will let you go alone.” “Sarah, this is...” “This is no time for argument? Yes, you are right, this is no time for argument. I am going with you to Formenscion’s.” “How did...” Frad lifted his hands in frustration. What had he said or done that had given her that clue. He scratched his head, then shook it, he did not seem to have much choice in the matter. As they moved away from the centre of the city, Frad explained, “Formenscion has a factory just within the city wall. The black clay you picked up is actually ash mixed with powdered metal. I have worked in the place before, after my father’s accident. Black mud abounds in this city, what with all the filth, but this is the only place where the mud smells like metal.” “Then you think that we can find the queen there?” “The weapon factory is a strange place for a wood worker to be in. But to tell you the truth, I have still no inkling as to how to get in.” “Don’t they have sewers we can crawl through?” Frad stopped in his tracks, “If you were not with me, then yes, I would consider it.” “Do not be a fool Frad. If the queen is in there that would be the safest way to get her out.” Frad shook his head in dismay. “Let me think first, please?" Sarah shrugged, however, she still thought that the sewer was the best way since neither one of them look like labourers looking for work. Then she had an idea, “Why not go as Palmeon’s messenger? It would at least get us in the door. And most probably lead us to where they are hiding her majesty.” Frad’s hair stood on end, “That is sheer madness.” “Correct, it is madness. More of a reason for it to work. If the prince is as tricky as everyone judge him to be, then he would not give more than the required information to his people. I doubt if he tells his underlings his whole plan right?” “So.. what are you trying to say?” “It means that his people will be used to surprises. Why, I can even pretend to be a nobleman disguised as a commoner. I’ve done well enough as a commoner pretending to be a squire. Anyway, as far as I know, the prince is not a person who trusts easily, so we can say that we were sent to make sure his prize is in good condition.” “If she is not there, how do we explain our checking the wrong place?” “It is a risk. We can always use a miscommunicated request as an excuse. It will buy us time at least to find a way out of our predicament.” Frad thought it risky, but realized that it was the most likely plan to work since the factory, being a large place would take days to search. Frad concurred, “Very well then squire, when we are in sight of the place, you will have to walk in front of me. No master walks next to his servant.” They walked for another two miles. A few law implementers watched them passed, but they were not stopped since neither fitted the description of the kidnappers. One pair of eyes recognized Sarah. Leah was about to call out to the guards, but thought the better of it and she followed them. After a distance she noticed the man pushed Sarah’s shoulder ahead of him, down a dead-end street leading to Formenscion’s factory. Everyone in Sillander recognized Leah so she could not follow them any farther. For the first time in her life, Leah cursed her dark skin. She waited in a dark corner across the street, within sight of the gates where she planned to throttle them when they come out. The stink was maddening and Leah wondered if cobblestones rot.
|